


blueshift

by makurophage



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (they are both Adults in this yes sir), Akaashi Keiji is a Good Boyfriend, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Feeding, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Out, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makurophage/pseuds/makurophage
Summary: Tetsurou balks. “I-I have to say that it had never crossed my mind to —"“Ah, found it. And there’re other things in here, too. Noted.”“Please — ‘Kaashi, you don’t have to narrate.” Tetsurou’s red now, skin of his neck feverish under his collar, but he’s smiling, almost.





	blueshift

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says, adjusting the heavy blanket and shifting closer to him on the couch. “Listen, Kuroo-san. I’ve been thinking about how stressed you are.”

  


Tetsurou groans, but leans into his weight helplessly. “Bokuto put you up to this, didn’t he? I  _ knew _ that you being free on a weekday was too good to be true.”

  


“Have some faith in me, Kuroo-san. I came all the way to your apartment for you.”

  


“Drop the  _ -san _ or so help me I’ll fish it out of your mouth, ‘Kaashi.”

  


Akaashi removes his hand from the depths of the blanket and cups one side of Tetsurou’s face, passing a thumb over his cheek. His touch is cool against Tetsurou’s warm skin. “That’s a consequence I’m willing to accept.”

  


The old sitcom playing on the small flatscreen is turned down, voices buzzing in low timbres and orange-blue flashes of fuzzy light giving Akaashi’s face softer features. There’s a mostly-empty pint of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream on the coffee table that Tetsurou hasn’t bothered to finish off and an attempt at playing cards sprawled over the rest of its surface. Tetsurou hadn’t bothered to clean that up, either. And then the faint gurgling of the water boiler can be heard from Tetsurou’s tiny kitchen — that had been Akaashi’s doing, making Tetsurou prepare some “herbal” tea that smells like a combination of dirt and driftwood.

  


“I believe you’re thinking that I’m about to say  _ Kuroo-san, you need to take better care of yourself.” _

  


Tetsurou knocks the crown of his head against Akaashi’s gently. “You know me. I just don’t want you guys —"

  


“— To worry, I know, Kuroo-san, and it’s one of the most terrible things about you,” Akaashi says.

  


“There are more than one?!”

  


“All of them are related to that one.” Akaashi clicks his tongue in annoyance, carefully peeling off his half of the blanket and getting off of the couch. “You always want to do everything by yourself, don’t you? You apologize left and right because you don’t think that your friends should be helping you with your problems.”

  


Tetsurou shrugs dejectedly, too tired to argue. “Sorry.”

  


“See.” Akaashi circles around the table, picks up the pint of ice cream and its spoon, and continues back to where Tetsurou is slumped. He kneels, resting his elbows on the armrest. When he next speaks, his voice is softer, warmer. “I wish you would let us take care of you. Let  _ me _ take care of you. Relax for a minute.”

  


Tetsurou shifts to look at him, at the way his eyelids slit to balance a tiny dot of reflection between them like a firefly. He’s up to something. But then again, Tetsurou’s tired, and spineless, and willing to entertain whatever he has in mind. Akaashi knows this because he’s always been stupid observant, and he’s willing to give it to Tetsurou anyway, because he’s always been stupid kind.

  


“What do you have in mind?” Tetsurou says, suddenly captivated. He sits up properly, grabbing a nearby cushion just to have something to grasp with his hands. 

  


“The opposite of whatever you’re trying to do.” Akaashi leans over the armrest, lifts his spoon to Tetsurou’s mouth. “And everything you’re trying to do.”

  


Tetsurou accepts the mouthful of ice cream gratefully, the wires in his brain making an attempt to connect together the pieces, to figure out what Akaashi’s saying, why he’s behaving like this all of a sudden. It’s futile.

  


He watches as Akaashi moves up, perching on top of the arm rest and twisting around halfway to feed Tetsurou another spoon of ice cream. “I told you to relax, you stupid cat.”

  


“I can’t.”

  


Akaashi stops abruptly, arm still hovering mid air, and hops off of the armrest. He puts the ice cream down not-so-gently and heads quickly toward — the closet? The cabinets?

  


(Did Tetsurou say something wrong?)

  


He opens his mouth. “What are you looking for, ‘Kaashi?”

  


“I know you and Tsukki play with blindfolds occasionally, Kuroo-san,” he replies, without missing a beat. “You cannot hide this from me.”

  


Tetsurou balks. “I-I have to say that it had never crossed my mind to —"

  


“Ah, found it. And there’re other things in here, too. Noted.”

  


“Please — ‘Kaashi, you don’t have to narrate.” Tetsurou’s red now, skin of his neck feverish under his collar, but he’s smiling, almost. Tsukishima Kei is a good thought.

  


“That’s right, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi’s suddenly in front of him again, inexplicably, and a simple, red blindfold dangles between his fingers. “Let your thoughts wander. That smile looks good on you.”

  


By some miracle of god, Akaashi had managed to make Tetsurou feel even more embarrassed. He wipes it off his face best he can. It’s difficult.

  


Akaashi’s fingers are steady, reassuring against Tetsurou’s temples as he folds downward, dipping his head to allow the blindfold to be tied at the back. The cool material of the cloth is soothing, the darkness it brings as jarring as it is welcome. When the job is done, Akaashi’s hands leave, and he sits back up, slowly.

  


“Is that okay?”

  


Tetsurou shifts in his position. “It’s — yes.”

  


“You can lean back, Kuroo-san.”

  


He does. “Thank you.”

  


“That’s alright,” Akaashi says. “There’s one spoonful of ice cream left.”

  


“Okay,” Tetsurou says.

  


“This is your favourite, right? Mint-chocolate-chip. It’s melting a little.” He pauses, but Tetsurou keeps waiting, feeling as if he hadn’t finished his thought. “Who bought it for you?”

  


Tetsurou flushes under the blindfold. “Bokuto did.”

  


“Who ate most of it?”

  


“...Bokuto did.”

  


“How come?” Akaashi’s voice is closer now, and Tetsurou’s only thought is that he must have very steady hands to keep the spoon of ice cream from dripping onto his sweatpants.

  


“I didn’t want any,” he lies. But when Akaashi stays quiet, he gives in and corrects himself. “I told him I didn’t want any.”

  


“Because you wanted him to have it?”

  


Tetsurou swallows around the choked bubble trapped in his esophagus. This is Akaashi, helping him to relax, being so gentle with him. Telling it like it is — is relaxing. He can press on without getting emotional, he’s sure of it.

  


“Because —" and Tetsurou’s voice breaks on the first word but he presses on, and presses on, because it’s what he does best. “Because I — I felt like I didn’t deserve it. ‘Kaashi, please don’t be angry.”

  


“I’m not angry,” Akaashi says, unreadable.

  


Tetsurou can’t help himself. “It’s really fucking stupid.”

  


“You’re talking about one of my most valued friends, Kuroo-san.” The tone of Akaashi’s voice rises like a wave, true and commanding. “I know a Kuroo Tetsurou who studies biochemistry and runs research labs almost every single day. He’s on his way to being the captain of the volleyball team, two years from now, and he already has a huge presence on court.”

  


He takes breath, then, as if collecting his thoughts.

  


“Kuroo is strong, the sort of strong that matters when you live alone in an apartment and see your family and your best friend once a month, or even less. He’s funny, sometimes, and humble, and endlessly kind, and he has never, ever given up on a friend. Me included. And most importantly, to this day, he has gotten up  _ every single time _ that he’s been pushed down.”

  


Another pause, and then: “Remember, once in a while, that you deserve to have good things, Kuroo-san.”

  


Tetsurou gives himself five seconds to start crying between the time that Akaashi finishes his speech and the moment that the cool of the ice cream spoon touches his lips again, and then he’s closing his mouth around it, absolutely dumbfounded, stomach wrought with emotion as he attempts to transfer the convulsions from new hiccups to his chest. It half-works.

  


Perhaps the most considerate thing about it is that Akaashi doesn’t expect him to say anything in response; the temporary relief from constructing logical thoughts nearly causes Tetsurou to start up another bout of crying as soon as he’s stopped. There’s nothing here at all, eleven-something at night on a Wednesday, in the darkness of his blindfold; there’s nothing, and there’s nothing, and then there’s nothing, and it’s  _ wonderful _ .

  


A soft thump sounds when the empty pint of ice cream hits his table again, and then a weight settles on top of him, straddling his legs. Tentatively, Tetsurou places his hands on the outside of Akaashi’s jean-clad thighs, pressing his thumbs into the give of the material lightly.

  


Akaashi says, “I’m going to touch your left ear now,” and then he does, and Tetsurou feels himself flinch on impulse anyway. He swallows the apology on the tip of his tongue and leans back into the direction of Akaashi’s hand instead, seeking his touch to let him know, to make him see how much he’s appreciating all of this. Akaashi obliges, fingers meeting the shell of his ear, cupping the left side of his face and palming Tetsurou’s fresh tears away and, by the gentle brush of his shirt material, onto his clothes. Tetsurou can’t find it in himself to care.

  


“Now I’m going to touch your right ear,” Akaashi says, and he does, and it is good.

  


“You’re an angel, ‘Kaash,” Tetsurou makes himself say at some point a couple of minutes later, feeling ridiculously abashed, and not only because there is an attractive man in his lap and a blindfold around his head — although that  _ is _ pretty convincing by itself.

  


“Took you awhile to come up with that one,” Akaashi says, laughing like sleigh bells. He’s got his hands under Tetsurou’s shirt, at his bare sides, kneading, and loathe to admit that Tetsurou can already predict where his brain is trying to run. “Thinking too much again, Kuroo-san. You’re no good at this.”

  


“You’re not making it very easy.”

  


“Oh, but I am,” Akaashi says. Infuriating. “I know what you’re thinking but I ask you, anyway, and I tell you everything I’m doing. I know what you want and I am going to give it to you. Kuroo-san, you must have a little patience.”

  


“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” Tetsurou mutters, sickly infatuated.

  


“Don’t make me go through my whole speech again. Now please do shut up for a moment. I’m going to sit a little higher on your waist.”

  


The complaint rising up from Tetsurou’s throat is instantly crushed by the realization of several things; one, that he’s genuinely, alarmingly hard, two, that Akaashi is acutely aware of this fact, and three, that his internal alarms are about to sound off again.

  


“‘Kaashi, wait — I don’t, I  _ can’t —" _

  


“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says, silk-soothing, “you can. And you will. Why don’t you start by telling me what it is that you want?”

  


“Well,” he swallows, “what do  _ you  _ —"

  


“Kuroo-san.”

  


Tetsurou reaches upward for Akaashi’s face, blindly, and finds it. Akaashi takes up his hand, presses it to his lips, smiles against it, making Tetsurou feel intolerably red. The confession is laughably easy, this time. “I want you to take care of me, ‘Kaashi, angel,” he whispers.

  


“Then please relax.”

  


Tetsurou thanks every star in the sky for the control he holds shaky over his nerves as Akaashi slips off of his lap and onto the floor just before the couch, meaning just between Tetsurou’s legs. He shivers at the fingers slipping below his waistband, rolling the elastic of his sweatpants down, then at the back of his ankles, trying to pull it off all at once. Akaashi proceeds slowly, talking him through his actions with an unquantifiable patience and a practiced steadiness, calm like Tetsurou can never be. 

  


And then there’s the feather-light touch of Akaashi’s fingers tracing two slow lines up along the inside of his thighs, and Tetsurou almost shivers right out of his skin.

  


“‘Kaashi,” he says, just to spell his name out with his tongue again. It tastes divine, and he’s so painfully unworthy of the way Akaashi drops a soft kiss to his thigh in response. “Akaashi Keiji.”

  


Akaashi nips at his sensitive skin. “Do you need something, Kuroo-san?”

  


“Just —" and Tetsurou’s breath hitches, back arching as Akaashi makes his way to the dip at the bottom of his Adonis belt. His cock tents against the elastic of his underwear, giving twitches of interest whenever Akaashi gets dangerously close. “Just —"

  


Akaashi hums against his skin, low and pressing, and Tetsurou doesn’t even get the chance to  _ think.  _ “Kuroo-san, it’s only me,” he says, sliding a hand up his side, his mouth chasing the curvature of his abdomen, the pulse at his collar. “You don’t have to worry about this, too.”

  


Tetsurou moans fervidly when Akaashi’s tongue reaches his neck, teasing short, staccato gasps out of him at each touch of contact; painting stellar collisions behind his eyes.  _ You don’t have to worry about this, too.  _ Terrible how Akaashi Keiji can see past the drumming in his ribcage, into his arteries, and then past even that, past the furthest worry in Tetsurou’s little head. He sees past all of it, and cups Tetsurou’s face with his own two hands, and calls it  _ lovely.  _ He calls it  _ gorgeous, Kuroo-san, blushing for me like that. _

  


Akaashi’s thumb presses into the divot at the corner of his mouth and he parts his lips obediently, half-smile disrupted when he closes his teeth softly around the digit, keeping it there. And Akaashi  _ laughs. _

  


“Kuroo-san, give me your tongue, please.” This Tetsurou does obediently, too, releasing the clamp of his teeth and letting Akaashi pull his tongue out, gently. It’s so refreshingly easy to follow orders like this, soft and pliant, listening to the music of Akaashi’s voice. 

  


There’s a soft huff of breath and then Akaashi’s tongue is on his, licking upward while still holding Tetsurou in place, but then Akaashi’s fingers begin to wander again as he licks and sucks and makes passionate love to Tetsurou’s tongue, allowing low, breathy moans to escape when Tetsurou begins to move on his own again; lolling into each other’s mouths, the soft plush of Akaashi’s lips like velvet against his own. Tetsurou traces his hands up Akaashi’s legs and onto his waist, and holds them steady, steady, him with his too-young heartbeat reawakening in the hollow of his lungs, Akaashi with his angel-delicate hands roaming over Tetsurou’s jaw, his neck, everywhere.

  


“Akaashi,” Tetsurou moans, because if there’s a light through the haze you cling to it, you cling to it hard, and you warm your hands by its blue heat. “Akaashi, please… no more teasing,  _ please,  _ angel _.” _

  


“What do you want, Kuroo-san?”

  


“Please, I — I want to see you,” Tetsurou says, struck by the sudden need to drink in how Akaashi looks right now. Would he be sweaty, flushed? Hair tousled with sweat, steel-grey eyes dark with need? Or would he be composed, utterly unperturbed by Tetsurou’s pleasure, putting up an act for him?

  


Straddled upright on his waist once again, Akaashi delivers a smooth roll of his hips against Tetsurou’s, refusing him an immediate reply for the first time. Tetsurou licks his own swollen lips, grinds his erection upward, tries to coax a sound out of Akaashi, anything. He attempts and fails to keep rhythm. But no matter.

  


“Angel…” he coos, as if he has the upper hand now, as if he’s on the verge of learning what makes the universe spin. “‘Kaashi, let me look at you, please. You make me feel so  _ good,  _ angel, wanna see how good you look.”

  


“Alright,” Akaashi finally relents, undoing the tie behind Tetsurou’s crown, “just for you; just this once, Kuroo-san.”

  


“Thank you, ‘Kaashi,” Tetsurou says, smiling.

  


Akaashi is bright red. He looks like everything Tetsurou had imagined and more.

  


Even with the blue glow of the television, ever on, casting a blanket of light along his jaw, Akaashi still looks like  _ he’d _ been the one on the receiving end of the teasing with no mercy. Tetsurou is kind of amazed. He expresses as much by folding upward, peppering myriad kisses all over Akaashi’s elegant jaw, the arch of his brows.

  


He’s delighted, frightfully so, at the squeak of surprise that Akaashi makes when he goes to swing his legs fully into the couch, knees bending so that Akaashi pitches forward right onto his chest. As planned. Tetsurou laughs at this shortly, fully aware that however red Akaashi is he must have it much, much worse.

  


“ _ I’m _ taking care of  _ you,” _ Akaashi scolds, removing himself from Tetsurou and scooting back onto his knees on one side of the couch. He regains composure at the speed of light, that tricky space between sympathy and desire to please, drops his voice to a purr. “If you would like to get sucked off sometime this century, Kuroo-san; I’ve been so  _ patient _ all along and you’ve clearly pushed it a second too long.”

  


Tetsurou’s quiet again, just from the way Akaashi bends down low, between his legs, and looks up at him through dark lashes.

  


“Okay, fuck,” he says, and it’s a great effort not to climax at the sight alone.

  


Akaashi, apparently satisfied at his compliance, begins at last to mouth at Tetsurou’s tented underwear, hands steady at his thighs once again, and oh,  _ fuck. _

  


_“Fuck,_ Akaashi.” Tetsurou utters it like a prayer, one hand now inexplicably entangled within Akaashi’s dark hair, the other seeking one of Akaashi’s hands. They find each other, and they intertwine their fingers, and Akaashi does it again. Drags his tongue up the outline of Tetsurou’s cock, holding the head between his lips before releasing it, slowly, with a moan that boils something in Tetsurou’s veins.

  


“Please,” he begs, unashamedly desperate. “Please give me more.”

  


“Do you deserve it, Kuroo-san?” Akaashi murmurs, cheek pressed against his straining member, looking up at him with latent expectancy. “Do you deserve my mouth around your thick cock?”

  


Tetsurou  _ dissolves _ .

  


“I thought I cleaned out your mouth earlier, ‘Kaash,” he teases, once he remembers how to breathe. “Want me to do it again?”

  


“You’re not cute, Kuroo-san.”

  


Tetsurou raises his hips just the slightest bit, just to watch the way Akaashi’s cheeks colour something ruddy again. “Then why don’t you show me what’s cute.” 

  


(Oh, Kuroo Tetsurou is  _ really _ testing his luck tonight.)

  


Akaashi doesn’t even grace him with a response. But then he starts to turn his face against Tetsurou’s underwear slowly, slowly, until it’s his mouth that’s pressed to the bulge again, and he doesn’t dare break eye-contact the whole time. Tetsurou watches with a breathless amusement, gasping out loud when Akaashi takes a hold of the waistband with his teeth and pulls the underwear down from one side and —

  


Suddenly Tetsurou’s hard cock rests flush against Akaashi cheek, steel eyes looking for approval, for satisfaction, a green light on the dock. Tetsurou has to look away because the scene is not only unbelievably erotic, it’s also cute. Akaashi’s so fucking  _ cute _ .

  


“You win,” he groans, bucking his hips against Akaashi’s jaw, his soft lips. “ _ Oh, please _ let me fuck your mouth, angel, I’ll do anything.”

  


“The only thing you will do is sit back and relax,” Akaashi whispers, a touch of fond annoyance in his tone. And then he repeats, “do you deserve it?”

  


“Please. I — I do,” Tetsurou says, relenting, not missing the way Akaashi adopts a self-satisfied smirk under his nose.

  


And then his mouth is on Tetsurou without preamble, lips parted so prettily around his cock, and he nearly  _ loses _ it.

  


“You’re so good to me, Akaashi,” he praises, carding his hand lovingly through soft hair. “You take care of me so well.” He bucks upward, picking up the speed slightly, and he knows he’s getting too brave once again but he can’t help it; the way that Akaashi occasionally hums around his cock as he’s pulling back makes him see real stars.

  


“Mm, Kuwoo,” Akaashi tries to say. “Kwoo-han.”

  


“Don’t speak with your mouth full, ‘Kaashi,” Tetsurou leers at him, fucking in and out of his warm mouth at an even pace now, and then he lets go of Akaashi’s hair to press a thumb at the divot between his lips. “What I’d give to see Bokuto in here, too, huh? Two of us at once, angel. Think you’d be able to take it?”

  


Akaashi moans languidly, a hand grabbing at the bottom of Tetsurou’s wrist to prevent further movement, but continues to suck Tetsurou’s cock like no tomorrow, its head kissing the roof of Akaashi’s mouth each time he makes his way down the shaft. It’s  _ divine _ .

  


“Not so talkative now, are you,” Tetsurou says quietly, a teasing grin playing on his mouth. “You like having my cock to play with, huh?”

  


Akaashi shifts his hips in the air and moans, and then his hand disappears from Tetsurou’s thigh, reaching backward under his own chest and between his legs. Tetsurou watches hungrily, resisting the way his hips want to fuck up into the warmth, primal. Akaashi hooks his fingers behind his waistband and pulls down, the low light just letting Tetsurou see the bounce of his cute cock as it comes free, and then the grip of his hand around the shaft, so  _ desperate _ .

  


“Fuck, yeah, ‘Kaashi,” Tetsurou breathes, unable to decide between staring at Akaashi’s lips or at the way he fucks himself into his fist, hips twitching with a quick rhythm. “Stroke yourself for me, angel. Good boy. God, you’re so gorgeous, perfect, so fucking hot.”

  


“Mmm.” Akaashi’s mouth comes off wet with drool connecting it to Tetsurou’s dick. He immediately replaces the friction with his available hand, giving Tetsurou no time to complain.

  


“Kuroo-san,” he starts, voice slightly hoarse, “feeling better?”

  


He thumbs over the slit of Tetsurou’s dick, encouraging a spurt of precome on its way out and making him keen in pleasure, pulling a short gasp from his lungs. 

  


“Akaashi, you’re so gentle with me,” Tetsurou moans, “your hands and mouth feel so fucking good around my cock, so patient for me. I  _ am _ feeling better, angel.”

  


“Then come for me, okay, Tetsurou?” Akaashi says, and Tetsurou doesn’t even have time to moan at the sound of his name before Akaashi’s mouth sinks down on his cock again, taking him down further into his throat, hot and wet. His back arches, hard, hands grasping at Akaashi’s hair, the material of his shirt, and —

  


“I’m gonna come, ‘Kaashi, please, oh  _ fuck _ , I’m coming I’m coming I’m  _ coming _ —"

  


Tetsurou throws his head back, unable to control the stuttering of his hips as he spills, quick and warm, into the heat of Akaashi’s mouth, keening soundlessly as Akaashi’s throat constricts around his cock, trying to swallow all of him down, to keep him in. When Akaashi pulls off of him, too fast, he spurts again, diagonal across Akaashi’s face and dripping onto his upper lip, and Akaashi’s tongue darts out to catch it.

  


“Come —" Tetsurou pulls Akaashi onto his lap by the hips, moaning softly as Akaashi’s thighs brush against his sensitive cock on the way up — “Come here, angel, let me help you —"

  


No sooner than Tetsurou has gotten his hand around the flushed cock does Akaashi buck forward, letting out a breathy moan of his name, and then he comes, too, all over Tetsurou’s chest. When he collapses forward Tetsurou turns his head to him, wipes off the come on his cute face with a thumb and plucks a tissue from the nearby table to clean them off, best he can.

  


“Thank you, ‘Kaashi,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead, but the soft, even breathing tells him that Akaashi is already on the verge of sleep.

  


And even after that, in the quiet hours of the night, sweat-soaked blindfold discarded to the table and Akaashi snuggled into his side, once again, Tetsurou presses on, and holds on, and it is very, very good.

**Author's Note:**

> i am: sad and projecting!! where can i get me an akaashi  
> GIVE LOVE TO [@BnessZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BnessZ/pseuds/BnessZ) AND [@choir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/choir/)
> 
> comments, kudos - leave some love <33


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